


Carbonara and Fireball Friday

by GordandV



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, OC-Celestino's Wife, Puke but not so rally, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 06:17:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10985106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GordandV/pseuds/GordandV
Summary: Celestino is first and foremost a coach to his skating students, and he says anyone can contact him in an emergency, even a non-skating related one. Even still, it is anyone's guess as to why Yuuri has called him at some ungodly hour to get picked up from a house party that Phichit has apparently dragged him to. Celestino will never forget Fireball Friday when he has to take care of his favorite students in the aftermath.





	Carbonara and Fireball Friday

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for College AU's, including all the tropes. I hope one day we get more details about Yuuri and Phichit as roommates; in the meantime I'm convinced they got into some shenanigans. For whatever reason, I also want Celestino to have a wonderful, somewhat overbearing wife who wants to ruin his student's diets.

“Yuuri, more pasta? Another piece of garlic bread? Do you want something besides water to drink? We have soda, it’s diet. Maybe some more asparagus?”

Yuuri flushes and finishes chewing as quickly as he can to whisper, “No thank you.”

“Phichit, how about you? More pasta? You need more pasta, you’re almost done. Here, give me your bowl, I’ll serve you.”

Phichit stares as a delicate hand with pale pink manicure reaches for his bowl before it is gently slapped away. He sticks the rest of his garlic bread into his mouth and looks at Celestino who settles back down into his chair with a laugh.

“Sofia, enough, let the boys eat in peace,” he chides, taking up his cutlery and smiling at the two boys who sit across the table. “I’m sorry, she’s just so happy to have guests.”

“You never bring your students home, Celestino; it’s not my fault if I have to overcompensate now,” Sofia sniffs as she sits.

Instead of eating she stares at the two boys. There’s Yuuri, the older boy from Japan, who is painfully shy but polite as could be. Phichit, from Thailand, is a little louder and more talkative, though not by much. They’re clearly uncomfortable and trying to find their footing, and Sofia can only imagine what they’re feeling. Celestino has been coaching for years, and while she’s gone out to eat on occasion with her husband and his husband’s students, she’s never had any students invited to their home before. She had been warned Yuuri was shy and nervous, but from the stories about Phichit she knew, she expected a small social whirlwind instead of the quiet, subdued boy who eyes the pasta bowl as he chews his bread.

“You can have seconds, go on; there’s more than enough,” Sofia encourages. She smiles sweetly, and Phichit hesitates before shaking his head no.

“No thank you.”

Sofia huffs and turns to Celestino angrily. “You’ve ruined them.”

“They’re athletes, Sofia, and unfortunately for them during the season it means watching what they eat,” Celestino says into his plate.

“They’re growing boys,” Sofia insists, “Diets be damned.”

She stands up and puts more carbonara into Yuuri and Phichit’s bowls then glares at Celestino, daring him to say anything. Celestino merely shakes his head, quiet in defeat. Sofia grins in victory, but neither Yuuri or Phichit look happy at the pasta. They each stare at the full bowls, and they actually look a little afraid.

“Celestino,” Sofia whines after a moment, “Make them eat.”

“Despite what you think, Yuuri and Phichit are actually adults and can feed themselves,” Celestino says evenly, though he looks over at his two students critically. They’re the only two students he currently has from abroad, certainly not the first and perhaps not the last. He has students hailing from all parts of the country, but there’s something about knowing that Yuuri and Phichit don’t come from the same country, nevertheless the same continent, that makes him a little softer, a little more protective when it comes to them outside of the rink.

“That being said, and the fact you two are giving up your Friday night instead of going out to parties, which I’m sure would be purely academic, I’m sure it would make my wife very happy if you ignored your nutrition plans at least for tonight. I won’t say anything, and I won’t even make you pay for it with extra practice.”

“You are the best coach ever,” Sofia purrs before kissing his cheek. She watches Yuuri and Phichit look at each other, obviously weighing their coach’s words before Phichit shrugs a bit and moves his bowl closer.

“Do you have more spicy flakes?” he asks slowly as Yuuri’s hand snatches another piece of garlic bread. He shoves it into his mouth as if Celestino will try to stop him despite his blessing.

“I do, let me get it for you,” Sofia says happily. She practically waltzes into the kitchen.

Celestino sighs loudly and rests his cheek on his hand as watches her go. “She’s why I never brought anyone home.”

“I heard that!”

Sofia returns with a little bottle and gives it to Phichit who thanks her. He shakes it over the pasta, and Sofia frowns a bit when he just keeps going. “You like spicy food, Phichit?”

“Yes,” Phichit confirms with what seems a quarter of the bottle of peppercorn flakes in his single serving bowl. The red coloring that bleeds out from the oil in the dish is ominous.  He takes a bite, and Sofia winces a bit.

“Do you want milk?” she asks, and Phichit shakes his head as his begins to shovel the food into his mouth. His cheeks puff out like a hamster, and he hums happily around his fork.

“This is really good,” he says, “Right, Yuuri?”

“Yes,” Yuuri whispers, and Sofia nudges the bowl of asparagus just a little closer in his direction. “I’ve never had such good carbonara.” He carefully puts a few more pieces of asparagus onto his plate.

“Thank you. It’s actually my mother’s recipe; I don’t make it quite like her, but I have yet to meet someone who doesn’t like it,” Sofia says.

Dinner continues well, if still reserved. While Phichit opens up more, Yuuri remains quiet and looks like he wants to cry when he isn’t allowed to help with dishes. Celestino banishes them to the living room and tells them to look at the albums on the coffee table while he and Sofia clean up. They’re a well-oiled machine, and from the safety of the kitchen where Yuuri and Phichit can neither see nor hear them, Sofia hugs her husband when all the dishes are loaded in the washer.

“I want to keep them forever,” she confesses. “You can convince, them, can’t you?”

“I’m sure I could, though their families might have a problem with that,” Celestino replies quietly. “They’re not orphans, Sofia; they’re international athletes. They both come from very loving, supportive families who miss them dearly.”

“Yes well, I still want to keep them,” Sofia says sadly. “If you can’t make them stay, you have to at least make sure they come back for dinner again.”

“I can’t bring them around every week for supper; you are a marvelous cook, but unfortunately most of your things aren’t good for athletes who have to watch their weight.”

“Every two weeks.”

“Sofia.”

“Just dessert?”

“Sofia.”

“Coffee.”

“I don’t think either of them drink coffee.”

“Tea and cookies.”

Celestino rolls his eyes and kisses his wife’s forehead. “We can negotiate.”

“Good,” Sofia hums, “And you should bring your other students around as well. I don’t want you to be accused of having favorites.”

Sofia already knows Yuuri and Phichit are Celestino’s favorites, and Celestino knows it too though he’ll never admit to it. Sofia is quite sure that Yuuri and Phichit will also be her favorites, or at least they will be until Celestino brings home more well behaved, adorable students for her to fawn over and feed.

For that night though, she brings out dessert, coffee, and tea out on a large tray and sets it on the coffee table as Yuuri and Phichit look over a thick album of Celestino’s career, from skater to coach. She sits happily by herself in one of the stuffed chairs with a cup of coffee as Phichit flips back in the album excitedly to ask questions. She can follow the conversation easily and could join in, but chooses instead to observe. Phichit begins to truly come out his shell, and even threatens at one point to take a picture of a picture of a very young, very long-haired Celestino and post it to what she assumes to be some type of online media thing. Celestino is unfazed and actually dares him to do it which results in Phichit squealing and grabbing the album.

“Can we turn on a lamp? I need better lighting,” he says breathlessly. “I have to do this before Ciao Ciao comes to his senses.”

Yuuri doesn’t talk much, but he does offer a few words here and there. Sofia winks at him when she catches his eye which makes him blush and wriggle with a small smile. He’s undeniably sweet, pure powdered sugar and cotton candy that Sofia would happily rot her teeth on. Phichit is sweet too, but more like a cinnamon candy or pop rocks, she decides.

Sofia’s sad to see them go when the tea and dessert are gone, though the promise of having them over again soon makes it easier to bear. Phichit is more than happy to hug her when she asks, and she wonders if she reminds him of his actual mother at all. It’s a hug that lasts a few seconds, and afterwards Phichit asks if he can call her _Mrs. Ciao Ciao_. She feels honored and can’t agree fast enough, though Celestino calls it encouraging bad habits.

“You like it when I call you Ciao Ciao though, Ciao Ciao,” Phichit teases as Sofia asks Yuuri if he would like a hug. She half expects himself to decline, hands neatly folded in front of himself and looking uncomfortable once again. However he nods, just a bit. Sofia gently hugs him for only a few seconds and thanks him for coming over.

“Thank you for having me,” is the whispered response with short bow that has Sofia cooing.

“Celestino should have brought you two over months ago,” she says. “I’m not allowed to have you over on a weekly basis, but when you do come back I’ll make up for all that lost time as best I can.”

She waves from the porch when the car holding the three of them backs out to the street to return Yuuri and Phichit to their dorm. When the car is gone she heads inside, already thinking of what to treat the two with next time.

 

 

Celestino is first and foremost a coach to his skating students, though unlike other coaches, he doesn’t let his relationships with them start and stop there. While his students will always be his students, some of them become friends. As it happens, some of his friends are also academic students. It’s not unusual for him to get texts about tests or papers despite him not having set a foot inside a classroom in quite a long time, though luckily most of the texts are just simple “I did really good” or “I totally failed” messages. He’s unhappily more informed about more of his friends’ love lives than he’d like to be, if only because he will listen to rants during rough patches or be a shoulder to cry on when things go very bad. He remembers what it’s like to be young and in love, though why he can’t be seen more like a father figure or parental unit where details would be less forthcoming is beyond him. More than once he’s been downright horrified at what his students will tell him, though apparently not their actual parents or guardians.

Some students have strictly professional relationships with Celestino, and others do not. Celestino knew that line was crossed when he first invited Yuuri and Phichit over for dinner; he has never regretted that choice. They’re good boys, with heads on their shoulders, brains in their skulls, and hearts in their chests. They’re both amazing skaters, and Celestino is proud to coach them. Despite all this though, sometimes Celestino forgets just how young the pair are. Perhaps more importantly, he forgets how young and in college they are.

He has cell phone numbers for all his students, and his students have his number. He says anyone can contact him in an emergency, even a non-skating related one, though he can never quite imagine what emergency someone would need him for. It’s partly why he doesn’t sleep his phone on silent, as a “just in case”, though admittedly his late night calls are so very few and far between from those who forget about time zones he can most often welcome them.

When his phone rings in the middle of the night, it takes him a few seconds to realize it isn’t an alarm but an incoming call. He squints at the screen, and it takes him longer before the caller ID focuses enough for him to read. He picks up the call and collapses against his pillows as he looks at his old digital clock; it’s 2:34 a.m., Saturday morning technically.

“Yuuri?” he breathes, and his foggy brain somewhat hopes it’s a mistake, that Yuuri has somehow accidentally dialed him in the middle of the night. Instead he hears some type of heavy bass music and background noise before a sob.

“Coach?”

Celestino feels his blood run cold at the tone. “Yuuri?”

“Coach, ’m sorry, ’m sorry,” comes Yuuri’s voice. “I didn’t mean to, ‘m sorry.”

Celestino can barely hear him over the music and din of what sounds like a crowd as he sits up. “Yuuri, speak up, I can’t hear you.”

“Sorry, sorry,” comes the broken reply before a couple of sobs.

“Yuuri, Yuuri why are you calling me?” Celestino asks, trying to keep himself calm when there’s shuffling, a shout, then blessed quiet.

“I made a mistake,” Yuuri sniffles, “I made a mistake.”

There’s something off about how Yuuri sounds, words somewhat slurred as the line remains silent for a few seconds.

“Yuuri?” Celestino asks, “Are you there?”

“I didn’t know who to call, ‘m sorry,” Yuuri breathes, and he suddenly sounds exhausted, as if he’s about to pass out.

“That’s alright, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m think I’m drunk, Coach.”

Celestino’s anxiety doesn’t abate. Yuuri is of age by American law, but the thought isn’t soothing in the moment. “You think?”

“Can you come get me?” Yuuri asks. “And, and Phichit too. Can you come get us? Please?”

Celestino curses and gets out of bed, heading to his dresser. “Where are you? What happened?”

He keeps his phone balanced between his ear and shoulder as he dresses; Sofia stirs.

“I went…I went to a party. Me and Phichit went to a party.”

Phichit isn’t 21. He is a bit impulsive, and very good at getting Yuuri to join him in whatever mischief he finds.  

“We went to a party,” Yuuri repeats, before he begins to cry. “We went to a party, Coach, we went to a party. There were drinks, and I had some, and there was American alcohol. I didn’t think I had too much but I had too much.”

“What exactly did you drink?” Celestino demands as he wrestles on his clothes as fast as he can.

“Backwoods Pennsylvanian hill-billy moonshine,” Yuuri repeats, and Celestino curses. “I don’t even know what that is, I told Phichit not to drink it, but it smelled like apple pie.” Sofia hums but merely turns over in bed.

“Celestino?”

“Where’s Phichit, Yuuri?”

There’s a brief silence. “Um, I don’t know…he was here with me, but then he wanted to dance, and I didn’t, and I drank more, and I think I had too much. I just want to go home now.”

It’s a struggle to get Yuuri to give Celestino his location, but eventually Celestino figures out Yuuri and Phichit are at some off-campus house party. He keeps Yuuri on the line as he drives to the house, which luckily isn’t very far from his own place. It’s a nice enough night that there people outside on the porch as Celestino approaches. They’re young twenty-somethings, but friendly ones who wave at him if he belongs.

Celestino has zero qualms walking right into the house, but the volume is obscene inside. While he’s told Yuuri to get Phichit and meet him at the front door, he has his doubts and anticipates finding them himself. He goes to hang up as he won’t be able to hear Yuuri, but finds the call has already ended. He sighs, pockets his phone, and immerses himself into the crowd. It’s not shoulder-to-shoulder crowded, but it’s clearly a well-attended party. He begins to look around for Yuuri or Phichit and doesn’t bother to shout their names. The lights are dimmed but thankfully not off as he makes his way around the first floor of the house. People are drinking, dancing, and getting frisky. Celestino can only imagine how Yuuri and Phichit ended up at such trashy party, and pushes the thought away; he will deal with the _how’s_ and _why’s_ later. His only thought needs to be Yuuri and Phichit, and where they are.

Or, at least it is until he hears his name, and not from either of the two skaters he wants to find. He turns and finds another student, well over the age of 21, with a red cup in hand who raises it in welcome. “Coach, I didn’t know you were coming! Want a shot?”

Celestino narrows his eyes as someone bumps into his student with a laugh. “Hey, this old guy’s your coach?”

“Yeah, we call him Ciao Ciao, he’s great.”

“Have you seen Yuuri or Phichit?”

“Yeah, they’re here. Apparently it’s their first American college party or something, they were doing great last I saw,” laughs the student, obviously drunk. “Yuuri can pound shots like there’s no tomorrow and Phichit is boss at beer pong.”

“Where are they?”

“Mhm around somewhere.”

Celestino goes to his student and smiles cruelly as his pats their cheek. “I will see you tomorrow, or rather, later today.” He heads away and misses the way his student’s face slowly drops.

“That was my coach.”

“Yeah, I heard, I didn’t know he partied!”

“Oh my god, that was my _coach_.”

Celestino searches more and finds Phichit in the kitchen just in time to watch the boy take a shot of something. If his other student was drunk, and if Celestino remembers all the latest lingo, Phichit is plastered. He can barely stand up and can’t seem to stop giggling. Celestino nods to the few people who give him funny looks as he approaches.

“Phichit,” he calls. “Phichit!”

Phichit looks the second time his name is called. His face lights up even more and Celestino opens his arms as Phichit essentially falls into them. Celestino grunts a bit but stays upright and adjusts his hold.

“Ciao Ciao, ciao ciao!” Phichit greets. “Do you want a shot? It’s Fireball Friday! I love Fireball!”

“No, I’m here to take you and Yuuri home. Do you know where Yuuri is?” Celestino chimes back. Phichit shakes his head but gets to his feet. He sways, and Celestino gets an arm around him.

“No, but I can find him,” Phichit answers before stumbling away shouting Yuuri’s name. Celestino follows, and they wind up back at the front of the house. Celestino feels his heart break a little more when he finds Yuuri sitting on the floor on his rear, curled up as good as he can be, right by the front door. Phichit lifts his arms up high with a whoop.

“Found you!” He falls to his knees but cushions his torso against Yuuri who falls over. Celestino curses.

“Yuuri, Phichit, are you two alright?” he asks, or rather shouts as the two slowly sit up. Yuuri’s face is tear-stained and miserable, and he obviously hasn’t calmed down in the slightest. However some of the tension leaves his shoulders when he spies Celestino.

“Coach,” he simpers, or at least that what Celestino thinks he says as Yuuri reaches up at him like a child seeking comfort. Celestino bends down hugs him tightly and rubs a hand up and down his back as the waterworks begin anew.

“You’re alright, you’re alright,” he soothes, “I’m taking you and Phichit home, everything’s alright.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Yuuri sobs, refusing to loosen to grip. Phichit clamps his arms around the pair and knocks his head into Celestino.

“Whoops, sorry!”

Phichit smells like cinnamon and whiskey up close, and Celestino considers it a small favor that he doesn’t reek of anything worse. Celestino’s able to get to his feet with Yuuri clinging to him desperately, and Phichit seems to think it’s some type of game as he clambers onto Celestino’s back. Luckily a young woman who announces she’s someone’s designated driver sees the trio and wrestles Phichit away. Celestino’s faith in the party community grows just a little when she helps get the two safely into Celestino’s car with minimal trouble.

“It’s really nice of you to pick them up, neither of them should be driving,” she calls as Celestino gets into the driver seat.

“I don’t think either of them even know how to drive,” he replies distractedly, looking in the rearview mirror, “Thank you again for your help.” Yuuri and Phichit are each buckled up, though Yuuri is leaned over, head in Phichit’s lap. Phichit is petting Yuuri’s hair and staring out the window.

Before Celestino can really stops to think about where to go, he begins to drive home, away from the dorms where he should be depositing the two. The drive is silent and uneventful. Celestino takes them inside his house one by one and into the living room to start. When they’re both inside and the front door is locked, Celestino looks at them. Both are cuddled up together on one side of the couch, Yuuri curled over the arm of the couch and Phichit curled over him. If both weren’t drunk it might be a cute scene, but both are, so it really isn’t.

“Phichit, come on, why don’t we get you settled somewhere comfortable,” Celestino says gently. Phichit’s groan is music to his ears; he’s not unconsciousness.

“Celestino? What’s going on?”

Celestino shuts his eyes as he hears Sofia come down the steps. He had been hoping she would sleep through the whole night so he could deal with her in the daylight.

“Yuuri and Phichit drank too much at a party; Yuuri called me,” he says, knowing there is no point in lying. “I was going to set them up in the guestroom to sleep it off.”

“Yuuri and Phichit?” gasps Sofia. “Drunk? My two angels?”

All of Celestino’s students are Sofia’s angels the second they step through the door, though he supposes Yuuri and Phichit have the shiniest halos, fluffiest wings, and most innocent everything out of them all. It’s probably a shock to have proof that the two are indeed college boys, albeit in the most stereotypical of ways.

“Fireball Friday,” Celestino states as an explanation with a shake of his head. “They’re too drunk to really answer any questions now. I want them to drink some water then sleep.”

Sofia rushes over to the couch and stares. “I thought Phichit was younger than Yuuri?”

“Underage drinking, Sofia.”

“Oh.”

“Why don’t you go back to bed, I’ll get them upstairs and settled.”

“No.”

It’s easier with two people as Celestino and Sofia bracket Phichit and slowly walk him upstairs and to the guest room. Phichit swears he doesn’t feel sick, so they put him straight under the blankets in the bed. Yuuri is next and is deposited next to Phichit who is already dozing. Both fuss and whine when they are poked and prodded to drink some water by the couple, but comply. Full plastic cups are left on the nightstands that sit on either side of the bed, towels are laid on the floor, and trashcans are placed on top of the towels. Celestino tries to make sure the two know there is small bathroom joined to the room should either of them need it, but both just blink tiredly at him. He sighs and pats their cheeks very gently and Sofia does the same.

“Go to bed,” he whispers to her as the two college students shuffle a bit under the blankets.

“What about you?”

“I want to watch them for a little longer, just to make sure they’re alright.”

“I’ll stay up too then,” Sofia says, but Celestino nudges her to the door.

“I need my wonderful wife to be in top shape tomorrow to nurse them back to health,” he teases. “Besides, I doubt either of them would want you to see them like this.”

Sofia gasps a bit at the implication. “Really?”

“I know. Now to bed with you.”

Sofia wags her finger at Celestino but tiptoes out. “Only so I can take care of them tomorrow.”

Celestino watches her go then shuts the door. He settles himself in the rocking chair that’s on Yuuri’s side of the room. His eyes are fully adjusted to the dark and he can make out both lumps. He can hear two sets of steady, even breathing, and his biggest fear is that that pattern will break due to vomiting. He could care less about the mess, and is more concerned about the stories he’s heard about people choking to death. He doesn’t necessarily think either are drunk enough to reach that level, but then again he never thought the two would even drink in the first place. Alcohol is empty, poisonous calories, especially for young athletes.

He is proven wrong when Phichit begins to groan. At first Celestino thinks it’s a nightmare or just drunk noises, and he’s too drowsy to do anything more then try to stay awake and sure things don’t go worse. He watches as Phichit sits up then turns towards Yuuri.

“Yuuri?” is the only word he gets out before he throws up, right onto his friend under the blankets with some force. Celestino cries out as Yuuri moans loudly in distress.

“Phichit! Not on Yuuri!” he yelps, “Trashcan, trashcan!” He leaps up and grabs Phichit’s shoulders to turn him the other way but the damage is already done as Phichit resists. Celestino grabs the back of his neck and forces his head down and over the trashcan to continue vomiting. Phichit thankfully obeys, but then the soiled blankets are tossed back as Yuuri falls out of bed and stumbles to the bathroom. The sounds of Yuuri getting violently ill echo out to Celestino who feels panic settle in his stomach. Or perhaps that’s just the nausea from the smell, slight scent of cinnamon doing nothing to help the stench of stomach acid and half-digested alcohol.

“Ciao Ciao, bathroom,” Phichit whimpers between bouts of heaving, but it’s not a question. Phichit kicks the blankets away from himself, gets himself covered in vomit in the process, and struggles upwards.

“Oh, Phichit,” Celestino simpers, hesitating for only a moment before steeling himself. He grabs Phichit, doesn’t think about the warm liquid that touches his skin as he helps Phichit to the bathroom. The nightlight is enough to show that Yuuri, for whatever reason, is expelling his stomach contents into the sink. His hands are braced on the porcelain, but there’s a sort of odd elegance to his stance, feet parted and simply bent over. Part of his shirt is darker than the rest, and Celestino dreads the implication as Phichit collapses in front of the toilet rather hard. He leans over and heaves.

“Too much Fireball,” Phichit croaks as he curls his arms around the bowl and sets his cheek on the inside of one arm. He pants for a seconds before another bout comes.

Celestino hovers in the doorway before he shouts for Sofia manically. She rushes to the room within seconds of his call and flips on the light. “Celestino? Oh what’s that smell?”

“Sofia help, please,” Celestino begs, “They’re both disgusting and sick and I, I can’t hold their hair back at the same time! I only have two hands! I don’t even know what to do!”

Sofia, bless her heart and non-existent experience with drunk college boys, just takes Celestino’s somewhat lead, as well as follows her instincts. She sits down with Phichit on the cool floor and rubs his back which is probably the only clean part of him, murmuring sweet words. Celestino stands by Yuuri and strokes his hair back, murmuring the same things as his wife, that Yuuri is fine, he’s safe, it’ll pass, and he’ll be alright.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Yuuri whimpers when he can.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, you’re alright,” Celestino soothes. “Just…let it out.”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri repeats before a rather impressive full-body heave that luckily expels nothing, followed by dry-heaving. When it stops Yuuri sinks to his knees but clings to the sink still, leaning into Celestino. The slightly cool hand against his sweaty forehead feels amazing.

“Yuuri?”

“Mhm?”

“Can you get your clothes off?”

Yuuri frowns, but his eyes remain shut as his arms give up. Celestino grabs him before his can knock his face into the sink and cradles him close.

“Yuuri, I need you to get your clothes off. You’re covered in vomit.”

Yuuri hums, limp as an overcooked noodle. “’m tired.”

“Yes, I know, and once you get cleaned up you can go back to bed, alright?”

Yuuri grumbles and turns his face into his coach. “Tired.”

“I know, but you can’t sleep like this. Just get those clothes off, we’ll put them in the wash and get them nice and clean. Let me help.”

Celestino is able to get Yuuri down his underwear and socks with minimal fuss. He wraps a towel around his student who curls up on his side when Celestino goes to get some of his old gym clothes. He finds two pairs of sweatpants and t-shirts and brings the bundle to the bathroom. Sofia has one hand carding through Phichit’s hair, who is still bowed over the toilet, and the other is stroking Yuuri’s bare ankle. She looks up with a worried smile.

“I think Phichit is done throwing up,” she whispers.

“Good, good. Yuuri, I have clean clothes for you, how about getting them on.”

While Celestino wants Yuuri to shower he’s afraid to have his pupil fall and crack his skull wide open. Sofia politely keeps her gaze on Phichit as Celestino helps Yuuri dress. The clothes are a surprisingly good fit, and Yuuri fiddles with the hem of the shirt.

“Soft,” he mutters as Celestino hauls him upwards. Celestino nearly brings him back to the bed, spies the mess, then detours to his own bedroom. He settles Yuuri on his side of the bed and promises to return shortly. He is banking on the hope that Yuuri has nothing left in his stomach to throw up.

“Sofia, how is he?” he asks when he returns to the bathroom.

“Ciao Ciao, t-too much Fireball,” Phichit stutters.

“I know, but we can discuss in the morning…or, later.”

Phichit is a mess in every sense of the word, enough that Celestino knows that changing his clothes like he did for Yuuri won’t do much. He has to risk a brief shower. When he starts the water, Sofia excuses herself to take care of the bedroom and shuts the bathroom door.

“You had better sing my praises as a coach,” Celestino grunts as he gets Phichit out of his vomit-soaked clothes and down to his skin. Phichit shivers on the floor as the water warms up and Celestino shucks off his own shirt. It’s a task to get Phichit into the shower for a brief rinse without having him break his neck. Phichit only wants to drink the water which Celestino lets him do.

Celestino is damp when he stops the water, and essentially soaked by the time Phichit is dressed. The hot water has gone to Phichit’s head, and Celestino is thankful that he’s kept up on his health; he hefts Phichit into his arms and carries him into the bedroom. The guest bed is stripped bare, and Sofia is undoubtedly tending to the blankets and sheets in the laundry room.

“Yuuri, make room for Phichit,” Celestino chimes, and Yuuri rolls over obediently.

“Phichit?” Yuuri asks quietly.

“Clean and hydrated,” Celestino confirms as he eases Phichit down. He helps Phichit under the blankets, and Phichit immediately goes to Yuuri with a sniffle.

“Yuuriiii, cuddle me.”

Celestino can feel his eyebrows try to make an escape into his hairline and is glad the two are hidden by the blanket so he can’t get confirmation about what is going on underneath. Nothing sexual, he’s sure, but very intimate judging by the single form they make as Phichit spoons up behind Yuuri with a contented hum. They’re two peas in a pod, and Celestino sighs when there is no further movement. He goes off to find his wife who is indeed working on the soiled bedding down the hall.

“I put Yuuri and Phichit in our bed,” he tells her quietly. “I’m sorry, Sofia, but I didn’t know where to put them without worrying about stairs.”

“No, it’s fine, don’t worry,” she replies as he helps her. “I always said I liked our couch anyways.”

The bedding gets tossed into the washer, Celestino ushers his wife downstairs with a pillow and blanket, then he returns to his room. Yuuri and Phichit are unmoved, and a quick look at the clock makes Celestino groan a bit. He settles himself on the floor and resigns himself to a few hours of sleep, or just no sleep if one of the two gets sick again.

 Celestino isn’t sure if it’s karma or just plain dumb luck, but neither of his students stir until many hours later. He wakes before them with a crick in his neck and general feeling of exhaustion. At first he can’t figure out why he’s on the floor and why he feels so poorly, but when he gets up and stares at his occupied bed where two dark, short-haired heads poke out from the blankets it all comes back. He goes to the foot of the bed and stares. Phichit’s face is apparently buried in the back of Yuuri’s neck and partially obscured by his hair while Yuuri looks serene. Both are breathing slowly, deeply, evenly. Celestino sighs and cranes his neck as he quietly goes downstairs. He finds Sofia already cooking, though he’s a bit surprised at what he sees considering it’s nearly noon.

“I thought they’d like a hot breakfast,” she says, never looking up from her eggs while a plate of bacon sits under paper towel as four pieces of bread sit ready to be toasted. “Are they awake yet?”

“Not yet,” Celestino says as he nicks a piece of bacon. “Do you want me to get them?”

“Yes, but bring them this,” she says, stepping away from the stove and pouring two tall glasses of orange juice. “Have them drink that in bed.”

Celestino snorts a bit but picks up the glasses. “Why in bed?”

“Because it’s comforting, of course,” Sofia chides, “Go, tell them I’m almost done.”

“They might not be hungry, you know.”

“If they aren’t, I am.”

Celestino goes back upstairs and puts the glasses down. He sits on the bed with care, though it seems to be enough motion to wake Yuuri who face scrunches up a bit before his eyes open. He squints, and Celestino merely observes until brown eyes turn to meet him.

“Coach?”

“Good morning, Yuuri.”

Yuuri frowns and moves a bit before he stiffens. His eyes go comically wide as he hastily goes onto his back. That wakes up Phichit who whines loudly and nuzzles into Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Phichit?” Yuuri croaks, then looks back at Celestino helplessly.

“Do you remember last night?” he asks softly, and Yuuri gives him a puzzled look.

“Last night?” Yuuri repeats. His forehead wrinkles. Celestino can pinpoint the moment when Yuuri remembers, if only because of the sharp little inhale. “Last night…oh no last night!”

Before Yuuri can work himself up Celestino tries to keep him calm with assurances. It’s hard to tell if it works, or if Yuuri’s simply too hungover to panic. Even still, Celestino finds himself with Yuuri sniffling into his leg with whispered apologies and a hand that claws into his pants.

“It’s fine, Yuuri, I’m glad you called me,” Celestino whispers as he pats Yuuri’s head gently. “You did the right thing.”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri repeats brokenly.

“Don’t be, it’s alright.”

A faint call from Sofia makes Yuuri perk up a bit.

“She made breakfast,” he says, and at the mention of food Yuuri groans. “Come, let’s get you and Phichit up.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I know, but I think you should at least try,” Celestino says, retracting his hand and reaching over. “Phichit, time to wake up.”

Phichit, who has remained plastered to Yuuri, doesn’t react. Yuuri shoves the blankets away and reveals an arm and leg thrown over him. Yuuri squirms and shoves at Phichit who groans and rolls away.

“Time to get up,” Celestino chimes happily as Phichit blindly pats around for the blankets and brings them up and over his head.

“Phichit, this is all your fault!” Yuuri snaps, grabbing the blankets and throwing them away rather violently. “You wanted to go to that party and dragged me along with you!”

Phichit merely sighs and curls up into a ball. Yuuri sits up further, grabs the nearest pillow, and wallops Phichit with it. Celestino gasps as Phichit yelps and flails away.

“Yuuri!”

“You told me you wouldn’t drink too much!” Yuuri cries angrily as he brings his arm back for another hit. Celestino hastily gets the pillow out of his grip.

“Yuuri enough, don’t hit him.”

“You threw up on me!”

Yuuri grabs Phichit’s pillow and gets in another hit before Celestino takes that one too. “Yuuri, stop hitting Phichit!”

“He threw up on me and dragged me to that party and, and I had too much and he did too and I called you to get us,” Yuuri cries, “And then I ruined your night and I threw up in your sink and I’m so, so sorry.”

Yuuri breaks into more sobs as Phichit rubs his head with a small frown. He looks at Yuuri then Celestino. He quickly looks away from Celestino.

“Uh, good morning, Coach,” he says quietly.

“We can talk about it later,” Celestino says kindly. “For now, I need you and Yuuri to come downstairs and try to eat.”

It’s takes a few more minutes and prodding before the two are steady enough to leave the bed and go downstairs. Celestino puts the untouched glasses of juice on the table. Sofia smiles and doesn’t say anything when she puts two plates down. Yuuri and Phichit stared at the food and grimace as Celestino sits down across from them.

“Just try.”

Neither get more than a few bites down before they simultaneously push the plates away. Their thanks is genuine though, and Sofia takes the mostly untouched plates away.

“It’s alright,” she coos, “Maybe in a few more hours you’ll be hungry.”

Yuuri and Phichit nod, and Celestino sighs. It’s as good as a time as any.

“Yuuri, Phichit.”

He watches both tense and look down in obvious shame. “I don’t think I need to tell what you two did last night was wrong.” Both hastily nod. “While I’m disappointed, I am glad you called me. Never do it again.” The fact that Celestino means to not get drunk at a party and not about using him in an emergency goes unspoken. 

“I’m really sorry,” Phichit says quietly, then looks at Sofia. “Sofia, I’m really sorry too.”

“We’ll never do it again,” Yuuri swears, and Sofia smiles at the two.

“I’m just glad you two are alright,” she says. “I was very scared.”

“We’ll never do it again, we promise,” Phichit says earnestly.

“You had better not,” Celestino warns with narrowed eyes. “Ever.”

 


End file.
